All summer while we cycled across Holland, Belgium and France—and even during our stay in London—we sought out Italian food. Sure we would try new food, but part of risking adventure means finding some comfort and familiarity in the crevices. Sure we sold our house, our cars, left our neighborhood, school and city… and yep, we packed all of our belongings into some storage warehouse south of Seattle. And we bought bikes, packed them into boxes, threw them and ourselves onto an airplane and… had a gin and tonic.

If you have been reading this blog a bit, you know that our lives have been based in Seattle for a dozen years. And you would also know that we were determined to go abroad for a year. In our case that meant cycling for a few months then landing in Florence, Italy to resume ‘routine life’ during the school year.

My point is, despite all the changes and novelty and wing-sprouting, we still sought comfort by means of food. And since it wasn’t coming from my own kitchen (too big for my panniers, apparently), we had to seek it out while hopping from city to city. Of course simultaneous to our bike/scenic tour we were having a food tour. We have strong notions of what people eat for breakfast in France (croissants, hot chocolate, an egg) and lunch in the Netherlands (sandwiches with chocolate nearby). We found both novelty and familiarity in food across multiple countries. But we also veered toward restaurants with foods we know we love: Greek (for the meat and dips), Italian (often to order pizza and carbonara) and Spanish (tapas—we fell in love with chorizo…).

The boys in particular, had a penchant for carbonara.

Something I have made for years, in the simple form of Alfredo sauce with peas, prosciutto & Parmesan. A few times this summer, we encountered a more ‘authentic’ version: carbonara that included an egg (either mixed in or on top). What we found fun was all the variations on carbonara; one was creamy sauce with pancetta and a poached egg on top (our favorite), another was an egg mixed in last minute (not our favorite).

Now I love my original version, but am always open to improvements. Since we have landed in Florence, it has been my self-applied job to play a bit in the kitchen (and I am just getting warmed up). I have made both the carbonara with a poached egg on top (awesome… a bit like breakfast for dinner with pasta Alfredo thrown in), and recently I tried the carbonara with the egg mixed in last minute (the hot noodles cook the raw egg). The latter I cooked from a new cookbook I am reviewing, from Giuliano Hazan (son of famous cookbook author Marcella Hazan). It was super rich, a bit too creamy with the egg mixed in with the cream sauce. Not to say the book isn’t great, I always give a book at least half a dozen recipes before the verdict drops. We just happen to have quite well-developed opinions on carbonara.

More soon. I am currently working on making daily focaccia. It is beautifully inexpensive, entirely rewarding and one of my near-term cooking goals—to make consistently scrumptious focaccia.

It is interesting when you revamp your environment (e.g. going abroad for a year), to see what adjustments we make in our eating and cooking habits.

In Florence, I find myself converting measurements such as kilograms, pints, liters and grams, Celsius. In the states I relied on cups, teaspoons, Fahrenheit, ounces and pounds. I thought in quarts, not liters, and based my measurements on our American system. So I am adjusting.

Sometimes I actually translate baking directions from Italian to English. Just the other day, I was making rolls and had to interpret the times and heats suggested in the recipe, plus ‘kneading’ and ‘recommend you bake a container of water’ with the wheat rolls (it keeps the oven environs moist). It isn’t the first time I sat with my computer, translating instructions. A few days into our new apartment, I was sitting on the floor in front or our washing machine learning what ‘mezzo’, breve’, and ‘ammorbidente’ meant. These Italian words are: half, short and softener.

If you know me, you know I don’t mind being pushed a bit beyond my comfort zone. I like being able to order ‘mezzo kilo pomodori, per favore.’ (Though my children might cringe at my pronunciation, at least it is a start!).

While I think about little things that require adjustments in our new home-abroad, my biggest smile comes from the boys’ creativity. With fewer distractions, they are spending time on arts and crafts, drawing and painting, and creating homemade games (read more about their games here). And because the food in our cupboard is different than before—because the grocers offer aisles of novelty and unfamiliar products—we have had to be creative there as well. My boys are growing adolescent boys; they play soccer and bike daily (to and from school, to and from soccer). They work up quite the appetite. Most of the snack options here are different than in the states. Which stretches us to redefine snacks.

What do you mean there is no string cheese, pecans, Kettle chips, root beer or Chex mix? No microwave popcorn (okay, we actually have no microwave… how is that for adjustment)? Only one [sorry---nasty] jarred version of salsa? No cheddar or jack cheese? No ‘normal’ apple juice (here it is pulpy)?

One thing that isn’t new: having my boys try new foods. Lets just say being in another country makes that ‘new foods’ goal inherent, even unavoidable. They are already accustomed to taste-testing cheeses or sampling salami flavors (here meats are often designated by region). I have long encouraged my boys to be ‘taste connoisseurs,’ and what kid doesn’t like to give their ‘professional’ opinion? The goal isn’t necessarily to like everything, but it is to educate your palate and keep searching for new foods you do like (but didn’t know about before). I am a big fan of all this prattle (note soap-box); I think kids dig the idea of self-discovery—and learning about their food likes and dislikes. Food is fun, even if you are making fun of it. En route, I can plunk down parental quips about nutrition or health, good balance and the pros and cons of various food decisions… I don’t deny my kiddos treats, but try to teach them moderation, and supply them knowledge to make good decisions.

Besides, we are in another country. It is our duty to sample their ice cream bars and sandwiches, don’t you think? A biscotti wafer ice cream sandwich? An ice cream treat that has eggnog/chocolate and vanilla ice cream or one that is a chocolate cookie, half dipped in chocolate… there is novel food in every category, down every aisle of the store. It is a hoot, really.

So, snack-wise, we still eat much of the same fruit (grapefruit, apples, pears, bananas, oranges, etc.). There are hoards of crackers to choose from, the only one familiar to us is Ritz. Ritz are everywhere. Crackers and a lot of ‘toast’ looking products. Almost all of the chocolate is different, except M’n'M’s, Kit Kats and Snickers. We adore trying all the new chocolates, wafer cookies, spritzer-type cookies, etc. The Italian stores have very few chips to choose from—a handful of plain chips and tortilla chips—but always have a full aisle dedicated to sponge cakes. It isn’t fair to compare them to Twinkies… but that is what comes to mind. Though we haven’t tried them yet.

Sure we will try cookies and chocolate and crackers, but we still aim toward the healthier side of snacks. The boys eat sandwiches and toast, Parmesan/mozzarella/Edam cheese and salami/prosciutto/turkey. Cereal is on the list, as is focaccia dipped in olive oil and balsamic. Our cupboards come equipped with walnuts—amazingly fresh and inexpensive—and the other day the boys were eating them dipped in nutella. A new snack! I loved the idea, and tried it myself: delicious! James went so far as to make a ‘reeses peanut butter cup’ sandwich. Don’t cringe: it was wheat bread, organic sans sugar peanut butter and of course, nutella (made with hazelnuts). Not bad, and chock full of protein and carbohydrates for boys going off to soccer…

I confess I really love the yogurt in Europe. I can’t eat the yogurt in the states, it is often too sweet due to a lot of sugar (seriously—check the back). The yogurt here is healthier, and I always keep some on hand in the fridge. In fact one of my favorite new snacks (thanks to an experience in Utrecht, Netherlands) is walnuts and honey with plain Greek yogurt. Not new to many of you, but since I was so out of the yogurt-eating habit, I hadn’t given it a chance. Oh, and fun tip: the last honey that went into my yogurt was saffron honey (Anthony tried it and picked it out at an outdoor market). The wild honey is taken quite seriously; when you go to outdoor specialty markets in the piazzas, they often have artisan wines, cheeses, meats, olive oil and honey. And so much of it is promoted by region and terroir. So far, I remember trying honey made from [bees that suckled] sunflower, saffron and raspberry.

I will be curious to see what other snacks emerge out of our unfamiliar cupboards and underlying hunger. Stay tuned…

As in: no white shoes before Easter, loose the leg warmers and satin is out.

This meal is all wrong. I learned in cooking school that it is important to consider the combination of foods on a given plate. In other words, what are the varying textures? Are the colors contrasting? Do you have a protein, vegetable and starch? Have you styled it and stacked it? Are you presenting it properly toward the guest? Sauce should not go over the protein, but in front. And so forth.

True, this is as unfashionable as any season would beckon: everything on the plate is all white. The protein is chicken, the vegetables are roasted cauliflower and fennel and the starch—sauteed potatoes. White, white, and more white. In fact, I could have had pasta with oil and salt or Parmesan risotto and still stayed in the same white theme. I even considered sauteing white mushrooms with a reduced white wine sauce to top the chicken… that would have worked with veal too. Please pass the focaccia.

Instead of unfashionable, perhaps we could coin this as deliberately edgy, like putting color on color: a tie and shirt of the same color. It is a bold, confident statement. Although, since the plate consists of entirely white food, the thought of trendy color is a bit of a stretch. At least the other components are there: a protein, a starch and vegetables.

I actually get a kick out of color and always have. I remember matching earrings to socks and shirts—even during the neon shirt phase (scary). You may not know this, but for almost a year, I had a blog called Brown Bag Blues; it includes a series of posts on colored lunches. The blog is a source of ideas for what to put in lunches, to stave off brown bag boredom (I didn’t have time for 3 blogs, but it is still posted, with a pile of lunch ideas if you want to peek; my 2nd blog is about this year I am spending in Florence, Italy, with my family—family frolics).

It is time for dinner… by the way, anyone want milk, white wine, some grated Parmesan? Panna cotta, vanilla ice cream or creme brulee for dessert?

You think this is bad, perhaps I should implement a Christmas dinner of red and green…

Sigh. I have been smiling since yesterday; we went to a frantoio. A frantoio is a an olive-oil pressing facility/palazzo. It is the olive oil version of a winery. October and November represent the time frame where olives are shaken or combed off trees—into nets—and gathered for pressing.

It is when nuovo olio (new oil) shows up at outdoor markets (last week we rounded 4-5 tables in our nearby piazza, and tasted new oil from their respective olive orchards).  When tasting just-pressed oil, you are invariably enjoying seasonal flavors specific to only certain parts of the world. At the frantoio I try the oil: the flavors bring to mind wads of grass in my mouth and pepper bombarding the back of my throat. Yet I want more… it is a special treat to have just-pressed olive oil hit the top of your mouth.

Why top of your mouth? Well, in the same way you pull air into your mouth to oxidize the wine over your palate, to taste olive oil you suck in air then use your tongue to press oil to the roof of your mouth. It is how you experience the full flavor of the oil, and comprehend its flavor profile.

Our tour guide was Eleonora; she grew up on the orchard with her family. The day we were there, her grandfather was coordinating olive picking, pressing and bottling. Friends and neighbors were helping—and went home with jugs of oil. We learned a lot about olives and oil pressing that we didn’t know, and felt spoiled to have an individual tour and tasting.

We learned:

• mosquitoes are bad for olive oil (already we aren’t big fans of mosquitoes; imagine our heightened disdain); they eat the olives and too many in a given year can up [to a fault] the acidic notes in the oil.
• to taste, oil should be around 27 degrees Celsius.
• before you taste, inhale the aromas one nostril at a time (why?), to supply heightened awareness of the aroma (translation: each nostril works harder when it is on its own).
• to sip the oil, place front of tongue behind teeth and roll oil onto tongue, sucking in air while pressing tongue to roof of mouth. You are trying to pull the oil up to your roof, while avoiding the very tip of your tongue.
• Laws changed 20 years ago or so, and even small time producers of oil have to follow big producer rules. They had old oil presses for show, but had to purchase and now use new presses. Fortunately they could afford it, but it is difficult for small vendors.
• New oil is cloudy and begins to settle after 2 months; after a year it is quite clear and considered ‘old oil.’
• Old oil is used primarily for cooking, new oil is used As Is (sandwiches, salad, dipping bread, etc.).

Needless to say, it was love at first site. We bought a few bottles with promises to return soon (it is actually quite close to Florence: lucky us). And as I was getting in our little [rental] car, I decided: my new favorite color is nuovo olio. Sigh.

For your info:

Villa Torre Rossa
Via Naldino, 11
50023 Impruneta
Firenze, Italy
www.torrerossa.com

You will notice on the website, pictures of the orchard as well as recently renovated apartments (plus pool) at Villa Torre Rossa. They are managed by Eleonora, the same gal who gave us the olive oil tour & tastings. She speaks both Italian and English (and I think maybe French). I am sure it would be a treat to stay there any time of year—especially because it is in the heart of Tuscany—but I have a soft spot for the time of year when they are just picking and pressing the olives.

I didn’t want to cook tonight. I had gone on an interview, cleaned the house, plugged away on the computer, hit the grocer, enjoyed the Florentine sunshine… and it was just ‘one of those nights.’

I am finding my rhythm includes one night a week where I like to pull a kitchen trump card. As in: tonight I want off. And here in Florence that usually means ‘lets get pizza.’ This is a great city—a great country—for ‘getting pizza.’ It goes without saying.

We have a favorite restaurant on our street in Florence: our go-to place for pizza night in (Francescovini). Though for the record, the restaurant has a nice ambiance—especially the deeper in you go—and is worth a sit down meal if you are so inclined. (What can I say? It is on our block, so the temptation to hunker down and play cards or watch soccer ‘in’ is compelling). We have tried the boar sauce (homey) and almost all of the pizzas. Our favorite pizzas are the pepperoni and the one with arugula and prosciutto. When it comes in our door, we top it with just-grated Parmesan cheese and pour the table wine (or sangria). It hits the spot every time.

The problem is, of course, that this particular night our pizzeria was closed. And with a fridge that was on the slimmer side of proteins, I needed a go-to meal that would feel like non-cooking. We were walking about, saw an open butcher and purchased a few chicken breasts. Three ingredients [and two quick sides] later, dinner was served.

I have made this dish multiple times in the last few weeks, usually after a long day of errands or touring. When what I really want is a glass of red wine, Anthony’s big slippers (he graciously lets me borrow his) and some down time (watching CSI or Friends with the boys, playing cards, reading a book, browsing Facebook… these all qualify). So I grab mayonnaise, Parmesan and the nearest container of Italian herbs. Mix, spread and bake. While the chicken is in the oven, I saute some potatoes and other vegetables and we have a meal. Thank goodness for the Italian ice cream novelties in our freezer: the perfect end to a family night in.

Chicken Parmayonnaise
serves 4.

1/3 cup mayo (by the way, if you are lucky, you have some homemade mayonnaise tucked away in the fridge)
1/3 cup Parmesan (grated)
2 tsp Italian Herbs (feel free to hit the herbs with a few grinds of kosher salt and coarse pepper)

4 breasts of chicken (as is or pounded slightly for uniform thickness. You are not going for thin chicken, just lean on the thickest parts a bit, so they cook evenly)

Oven to 375. Blend mayo, Parm and herbs. Place breasts in baking dish, spread top evening over chicken breasts. Pop into oven and cook approximately 25 minutes until top just starts to brown and chicken internal temp registers 165 F.

• Find more easy to make, family favorites under the category default dinners.
• Here is another easy chicken recipe.
• Instead of sauteing vegetables, roast them, so they all go into the oven at once and you can put your feet up sooner. I regularly roast carrots, potatoes, brussel sprouts, fennel and broccoli.